


Your mission, should you choose to accept it.

by bispaceprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Funny, Smut, Tinder, doctor!clarke, history professor!Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bispaceprincess/pseuds/bispaceprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke decides to try tinder, and ends up with a slightly unexpected result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this (http://www.funnyjunk.com/This+fuckin+guy/funny-pictures/5226431/) Tinder conversation.  
> Just total ridiculous Bellarke fluff.
> 
>  

Clarke was sitting cocooned in blankets on her couch, staring at her phone and trying to convince herself that this wasn’t as pathetic as it clearly was.

She had just moved to a new city for her residency, so it’s not like she had friends to go out with, she tried first. Nope, that just reminded her that she had no social life at all.

She was just trying to get back out there and this was just practice, she tried next. But that just reminded her of the disastrous ends of her two previous relationships. Unwittingly becoming the other women then falling in love with an emotional mute who ended up sabotaging her application for a prestigious residency they were competing for? Not her finest dating moments. 

Okay, she didn’t have time to start a relationship (see: previous statement about the residency), and well, a girl still had needs. That’s not weird, that’s okay.

Having finally convinced herself that this was not _totally_ pathetic, she actually focused her attention.

 

The first profile looked nice, his first picture was him smiling at the camera at a restaurant. But when she clicked through to read his description it said ‘Beer, babes and banging’, she quickly swiped left.

The second profile started off well too, she had curly hair and great fashion sense, but further investigation showed that she was just a DJ using tinder for self-promotion. Damn

After 30 minutes she was ready to give up, she had swiped right a few times, but ‘let’s fuck’ and ‘what’s your tit size?’ were not really conversation starters that appealed to her. She was about to call Wells and complain about living 1000 miles from one another when a message popped up.

“ **Hi** ”

She took another look at his profile, dark curly hair, freckles and a jawline you could cut glass with. Okay, she could work with that.

“ **Hi yourself, what’s up** ” she replied

**All right, enough chitchat. Let’s put our cards on the table. No, I’ve never swiped right before, no, none of these pictures are of me. Yes, I’ve been on the lamb since ’09.  
I need to know if I can trust you.**

**I’m confused.**

**Confused? No. Confused was what I was when I walked into that bank brandishing my dads smith and Wesson at the ripe young age of 16**

**The world doesn’t forgive Clarke. It’s a cold, hard bitch.**

 

What the fuck was happening? Clarke looked around the room confusedly, and then typed back.

 

**What are you trying to get out of this conversation?**

**3 Things: A. Can you provide asylum? B. Can you cook? I am lactose intolerant. C. Do you love me?**

 

Clarke choked on the diet coke she was sipping. The fuck?

 

**Um I only just met you.**

**Listen Clarke, I took a gamble on you. I need you to pull through or this could mean the end of the road for me. Let’s see, do you know morse code?**

**Also, you’re going to need an alias. How about Princess?**

**What is happening?**

**I go by the Rebel. I am tall and I have black hair and very pale skin. I will be wearing a disguise when we meet. Look for the signal: I will sneeze three times. You pretend to take a call. I will leave; you follow me at a reasonable distance. Is this understood, Princess?**

**Yes?**

**Excellent. Our rendezvous will be at this time tomorrow. We need to be out of the city by sundown. Can you drive stick?**

**No I cannot**

**This really throws a wrench in our plans, Princess. Not to worry, I’ll drive, but be prepared to switch seats in the unlikely event that we are stopped by law enforcement. Side note, food should be prepared when we get back to your quarters, before we leave. What are you making? I will remind you, I’m lactose intolerant.**

**I’m still really confused**

**It means I’m allergic to dairy products. Please don’t use any of them when preparing the meal.**

**No, I know what lactose intolerant means… but what’s happening in general**

**It’s up to you, I’ll eat anything as long as there isn’t dairy in it.**

**Not about the food…Why are we having this conversation?**

**Don’t get all philosophical on me, Princess. I need you focused, sharp as a tack. Nimble, like a cat. None of this existential mumbo jumbo means anything if we don’t pull this off.**

Clarke let out a chuckle, deciding that she was probably insane, but was just going to go along with it. What the hell? At least it was more amusing than some frat boy asking for nudes. She looked back down as she prepared her next message.

 

**You’re right, the time for existentialism died the moment you picked up the gun.**

**Since I’m taking care of food, you’ll need to get weapons**

 

Clearly her responses took him by surprise, because his next reply took more time to come back

**You’re right, fair division of labor. Do you have requests?**

**I’m proficient with guns and poison but specialize in archery; can you get your hands on a bowtech insanity black ops model?**

**How are you a specialist if you don’t even have your own?**

**I lost it in the fire; I lost everything in the fire.**

**Now what’s the plan once we get out of this city, I have to warn you I have been banned from Portugal and Lesotho, so they are both out.**

**Damn, they were my two top choices, plan C it is. We’ll go to New York City, after we’ve retrieved the declaration of independence.**

**Are you crazy? That’s exactly what they’ll expect. No, we have to go to Cairo to ensure the idol doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. They already have the headpiece!**

Clarke had moved her legs underneath her and was bouncing with excitement.

 

**Of course, but we shouldn’t discuss our plans anymore on here. It’s not a secure mode of communication.**

**Can you meet now? There’s no time to waste.**

**Location and passcode?**

**The Dropship, and Belloq.**

 

Clarke smiled to herself, realizing he had gotten her Raiders of the Lost Ark reference. Then glancing down at her outfit with a frown she replied.

 

**Give me 20 mins, I need to shake this tail.**

**20 minutes it is.**

 

Clarke hurriedly dragged a brush through her hair as she looked for a good outfit. Finally she decided on a pair of black skinny jeans and a striped tank top that went low enough to show off her admittedly great rack. With a quick swipe of red lipstick, she was out the door in 10 minutes. Thankfully, she lived only a few blocks from The Dropship.

When she got in she glanced around, unsure if he had been lying about the photos not being his. She made her way to the bar and ordered an old fashioned when she was tapped on the shoulder.

“Belloq, I presume”

It was him, and thank god he was lying about the photos not being him, because _damn._

She breathed out a greeting as he took the seat next to her.

“So listen, I’m going to be up front with you,” he began. “My sister made me get the app and was on my ass to actually use it, so I decided to say those things to fuck with her.”

“Aw, so no daring escape to Cairo, Rebel? And here I was with all the dairy free snacks.”

The grin he sent her was breathtaking.

“Well, if you already have the snacks I might be able to make an exception. The name’s Bellamy by the way.”

“Clarke” she replied sticking her hand out to shake.

“You know, I think Princess suits you better,” he said as his warm calloused hand wrapped around hers.

 

The next morning she untangled herself from his sleeping form and quickly dressed herself. On the way out she saw his phone on the floor, where it must have landed last night when they were preoccupied. She grinned mischievously as she put her phone number into his contacts as ‘Clarke Belloq”.

 

She didn’t even have to wait for a day to find out her next mission.  

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy compete for the title of 'Americas Best Criminal'

At the sound of the front door opening, Clarke dropped to the ground. She heard muffled voices through the bedroom door and making a split second decision, rolled underneath the bed.

After a few moments, the door opened and she could see a pair of female feet enter the room from her vantage point. They began walking to the closet when a voice called out from the other room.

“Hey, O, did you say Lincoln was meeting us here or at the restaurant?”

_Ah, the elusive O,_ Clarke thought to herself. The delicate ankles and dark nail polish suited her.

“At the restaurant!” She yelled back.

_Good,_ Clarke thought, she hadn’t expected him back for hours and hiding under his bed for the next three hours was not her idea of a good time, well, not alone at least.

“Good, then get out of those wet clothes and get a move on slowpoke”

Clarke saw a dripping pair of jeans drop to the ground beside her, followed by a damp top. Octavia then made quick work of finding the extra clothes she had left behind when she moved out a few months ago that were hidden in the back of his closet, but then stilled as she came across something else instead.

 

“Hey, Bell?”

“Yeah, O?”

“Whose red lace panties are these?”

_Fuck_

“Fuck” Bellamy exclaimed, as he came rushing into the room himself. Clarke overheard a bit of scuffling before Bellamy let out an ‘aha!” of triumph, clearly having bested his sister.

“Who is she, Bell?”

“None of your business, O”

“Oh come onnnnnnnn, tell me!” Octavia whined in the voice that only younger siblings seemed to possess. “Tellmetellmetellme.”

“Ugh, alright! If only to end your incessant caterwauling.”

“I knew my particular skill set would come in handy someday!”

“Uh, it’s this girl I met on tinder”

“Yes! I knew that would work! Did you totally woo her?”

 

Clarke perked up; suddenly very interested to see how this conversation would go.

 

“Uh, not exactly. To be honest I was kind of a jackass. I was mad at you for making me do it, so I sent her these ridiculous messages about how I was on the lamb, and that I needed her help to escape the police.”

“And that worked?” Octavia asked, voice laced with doubt.

“Well, not really. She started going with the joke, and she was fucking hilarious. She even made a Indiana Jones reference, O!”

“Well, no wonder you’re halfway in love with her already”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied, but there wasn’t much protest in his voice, much to Clarke’s surprise. “Anyways, I suggested we meet up that night and we’ve been kinda seeing each other since.”

“Oh my god! I was joking about the love stuff! It wasn’t just a booty call? How long has this been going on? When were you going to tell me?”

“No, a month and I wasn’t sure. It’s kind of new and we don’t know that much about each other yet”

“You’ve been together for a month and you don’t know each other that well yet? What have you been doing? Fucking constantly?”

“Uh, something like that”

Clarke bit back the laughter that bubbled in her throat.

“Ugh, you’re so gross! Come on, we should get going, we’re going to be late to meet Lincoln!”

 

At that they exited the room. Clarke listening carefully for the sound of the front door clicking locked and then rolled back out from her hiding space.

For the past month they had had a running competition to steal things from one another’s apartments and then boast about their criminal prowess via snapchat ransom notes.

Usually Clarke just did it before he woke up in the morning, but construction on his street two days ago had woken him up alongside her and she had missed her opportunity. His ransom notes of her prized and battered copy of ‘gray’s anatomy’ were growing more and more taunting, prompting her to break into his house. _Yeah, that was totally the reasonable reaction._  But she would be damned if he would claim 'Americas Best Criminal' title over her. 

She went to the living room and looked around, trying to find the perfect item to steal.

Her eyes caught on his Indiana Jones replica hat, hanging by the door. _Yatzee_.

With her prize in hand she snuck back to the window, squeezed out onto the fire escape and made off into the early evening, already planning her snapchat threats.

 

* * *

 

 

She only ended up sending the first one, before she got a page and had to rush back to the hospital, some big accident required all hands on deck. When things finally quieted down hours later, she went to the break room to check her messages and was surprised to see that Bellamy had not yet responded. _Huh, weird._

She went and got the hat out of her locker where she had stashed it, in order to take a selfie wearing it to send to him, when she was called for another patient.

 

Distracted by his lack of response, she didn’t even notice she had forgotten to take the hat off, as she walked into the room, head down to peruse the chart.

“Clarke?”

“Bellamy? What are you doing here?” she asked, “and with Monty?”

Monty waved sheepishly at her.

“Well, I didn’t know that you worked here, but I may have been caught by a thoughtful neighbor trying to break into someone’s house.”

Monty put his hand up and smiled wider “That’d be me”

“Oh my god! That is too great!”

“Tell that to my possible concussion, Princess”

“Oh right, oh my god. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well you must be rubbing off on your neighbor here, because he whacked me with a cast iron pan in the head as I was trying to pick your lock.”

“Rubbed off on him?”

“Princess?… Rapunzel?… Tangled?... ah never mind.”

“Well at least you haven’t lost your ability to reference Disney movies. How about the rest of it, any nausea? Did you lose consciousness? Any flashing lights?”

“No, don’t think so, and no. Just a throbbing lump in my head”

Clarke made a gesture that asked ‘do you mind?’ and when he assented she brought her hands to his head and easily found the wound. She prodded a bit too hard and he winced.

“So, what’s the prognosis Mungo Kidogo?”

Clarke looked up, realizing she was still wearing the hat with a laugh. “I think you should make a full recovery, but please, call me Mango-Gorgonzola.”

He burst out laughing and then groaned with pain.

Monty just sat there sending confused looks between the two.

 

Clarke turned to Monty “Thanks for bringing him in, I owe you one”

“Well, since it was my fault, I kinda felt obligated,” Monty replied.

“Don’t be silly,” Clarke chided. “It’s his own fault for being the worlds worst criminal.”

“Hey!” Bellamy cried out in objection.

Clarke leveled him with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe you’re the better criminal” he mumbled despondently.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you?” Clarke said in a singsong.

“You’re Americas Best Criminal”

“Damn right. Well, my shift just ended, I was just called in for overflow, how about I get you home, Short Round?”

“Okay, just as long as you keep that hat on”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback guys, since I got so many requests, I figured I'd give a shot at another chapter. I think I want to do one more after this, so keep tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke breaks into the museum.  
> p.s Note the rating change!

The room was eerily still as Clarke slowly crept through it. The overhead lights had been turned off hours ago, but the spotlights on the artifacts remained on, casting a bluish tinge to the room. At the end of the corridor she saw warm light escaping out of a partially opened door and heard the soft scratching of pencil on paper.

Having confirmed that he was still here she exited the room, making her way to the reconstructed Egyptian tomb that the museum was famous for. There were no spotlights left on in this room, but luckily the moon was full tonight and the glass ceiling allowed the light to illuminate the room.

 

She took a moment to straighten her outfit, a white linen button down with the four top buttons undone and a khaki skirt. Pants would have been more accurate, but rather more of an obstacle for her plans for later. Then, she pulled out her cellphone and opened snapchat to take a photo of herself blowing a kiss with the tomb obviously visible in the background before sending it to Bellamy. 

She moved from the entrance to the first antechamber and waited for him to come in the shadows. She didn’t have to wait long. She heard his footsteps as he approached; he really was not as sneaky as she was. He looked around confusedly when he got to the entrance, looking for her.

 

“I always knew someday you’d come walking back through my door,” she rasped in her most seductive voice, as she stepped out of the shadows.

“Clarke? How the hell did you get in here?”

“I have my ways, I’m not Americas best criminal for nothing”

“Hey, I thought we agreed that proclamations made under the influence of a head injury did not count!”

“I agreed to no such thing,” she said, sidling closer to him. “I got Monroe to let me in, I might have had to promise to patch her up no questions asked after her next roller derby tournament though.”

“A hefty price.”

“So, are you going to make it worth it?” she said with a quirk of her brow.

 

Bellamy was never a man to back down from a challenge. He hooked his fingers into her belt loops and pulled her flush to his body before bending down to capture her mouth with his. He brought one hand to the nape of her neck while the other slid down to cup her ass. Without breaking the kiss, he maneuvered her over to the hieroglyphics covered wall. When she broke away to catch her breath, he took the opportunity to suck bruising kisses along the column of her throat.

He brought his hand to cup her breast, feeling her nipples pebbled hard through both her shirt and bra. She twisted her head back to capture his lips again and after giving her nipple a tweak, he let his hand roam further down. He slid his hand up her skirt and when he found she was wearing nothing underneath, he let out a groan.

“You are going to be the death of me, Princess,” he murmured into her neck.

“Good, I was hoping to add murder to my rap sheet,” she replied with a smirk.

The smirk did not last long as he slid down her body, hitched one of her legs over his shoulder and began peppering kisses along her inner thigh.

“Bellamy, please,” she begged.

This time he was the one smirking as he dropped his head down, used one hand to spread her and laid a long lick through her folds. Clarke jerked her hand up to her mouth to muffle her moans as he continued to lick and suckle her clit. Her breathing grew more and more labored as she came closer to her peak. Sensing she was close Bellamy pressed one, then two fingers into her and began to pump them in and out along the same rhythm his tongue had set. With a crook of his fingers to hit that spot inside combined with a hard suck on her clit, she came, pulsing around him.

He pulled away and looked up at her, her head thrown back against the wall and her breasts heaving as she caught her breath.

“Well, I’m never going to be able to come in this room without getting hard again.” He mused.

She let out a breathless laugh and replied, “Are there any other rooms you want to ruin? Because I’m just getting started.”

 

They managed to get through two more exhibits, and his office, before he dragged her back to his apartment and they fell into his bed, exhausted. He curled around her and just as they were falling asleep she whispered, “You call _this_ archaeology?” He only chuckled sleepily and pulled her closer.

* * *

They both awoke with a start the next morning at the sound of his front door opening, followed by Octavia yelling out “Hey Bell!”

They both stared at each other with wide eyes for a moment, before Bellamy bounded out the bed, quickly dragging a pair of sweatpants on, to go intercept his sister.

“Uh, hey O. What are you doing here so early?”

“We had plans to go for breakfast this morning, don’t you remember?”

“Oh my god. I totally forgot. I am so sorry.”

“God Bell, you are such an old man sometimes.”

“I’m only 28, give me a break.”

“Whatever, just go and get dressed, I’m starving.”

“Actually, about that…”

Clarke grinned into her pillow; she could practically hear the blush in his voice.

“Oh my god! Do you have your girl here? The tinder criminal?”

“Yes,” Bellamy hissed out. “So, will you please leave?”

“Nuh-uh, no way. I want to meet her, invite her to breakfast,” Octavia replied, then raised her voice and called out to the bedroom. “Hey, tinder girl, come out to breakfast with us!”

Clarke grinned again as she heard Bellamy chide Octavia, “her name is not tinder girl, it’s Clarke.”

“Sorry,” Octavia called out again. “Hey, Clarke, come out to breakfast with us!”

Clarke started to get up and find her clothes, when Bellamy peeked his head in sheepishly. “You don’t actually have to come, if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” Clarke replied. “Of course I want to come. I want to see the infamous O in person, well I want to see the rest of her at least.”

Clarke located the last article of clothing, pulled it on and went into the living room followed closely by Bellamy, now clothed himself. She stuck out her hand to shake and said “Hi, I’m the tinder criminal and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Octavia.”

Octavia sent her a beaming smile and said “Likewise.”

“Wait,” Bellamy interjected. “What do you mean the rest of her?”

“Oh, right! I totally forgot to tell you about that. Remember the time I broke into your house and stole your hat? Well, I had to hide under the bed when you came back unexpectedly before your dinner to change after being caught in the rain and I overheard you two talking.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well I was going to, but then you showed up at my E.R with a head injury from Rapunzel and it kind of slipped my mind.”

Octavia stood there, looking between the two of them as the spoke, smiling the whole time.

“This sounds like a story I want to hear, but over pancakes,” Octavia said, hooking her arm into Clarke’s conspiratorially. “And Clarke? I think I’m going to like you.”

 

* * *

 When Bellamy returned to his apartment that night he was exhausted. After a breakfast where Octavia alternated between grilling him and becoming Clarke’s new best friend, he had gone to work. He had spent the entire day at work trying not to remember what he and Clarke had been doing in those very rooms the night before. Unsuccessfully, he might add, trying to assess the historical importance and veracity of new artifacts with a hard on was as difficult as it sounds.

He came to a stop when he saw a package wrapped in the middle of his dining table. He opened the package to see a paintball gun and a map. Confused he looked in the wrapping and found a note.

 

 

> Rebel,
> 
> I am willing to concede that head injuries may be an acceptable reason to reopen the competition for Americas Best Criminal. So, I propose a final contest.
> 
> X marks the spot.
> 
> xoxo, Princess
> 
> P.S. Bellamy, bring guns ;)

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, I had trouble trying to decide what kind of shenanigans I was going to make these two get up to. Hope you all enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://klokkombikru.tumblr.com/)


End file.
